Love Reimagined

by Delancey Stewart

  “Yeah, that would be …” My words were stunted by Chance’s proximity and presence. How did he manage to so completely fill every room he was in? “That would be perfect.” My smile was much too big for someone accepting a job offer, but it felt perma-fixed on my face. “We’ll talk about salary and everything then?” At least I’d remembered to ask one of the important questions.

  “We can talk about it now,” Chance said. “We’ll pay you fifteen bucks an hour. Does that sound fair?”

  That was more than fair. I didn’t make that at the diner, that was for sure. “Great,” I said, trying not to sound too excited.

  “Good then,” Chance said. “See you tomorrow? Noon?”

  That was perfect, since I had a breakfast shift at the diner.

  “We can work out the rest of the week’s schedule then,” Chance said. “Bring your schedule from the diner.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks.” My heart fluttered an excited beat and I turned to go out, essentially crashing through the front door before finding myself in the parking lot. I was going to be that close to Chance every day. How on earth would I handle it?

  I crossed back to my truck, lifting my face to the wind blowing in from the canyons beyond. There was something different in the air. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it set me on edge, reminding me of my grandmother’s wacky pronouncements about “earthquake weather.” I didn’t want to think about whatever it might be—probably nothing. So I hopped into the truck and headed back toward home, thoughts of Chance’s gleaming smile heavy on my mind.

  Chapter 7

  Sam

  This was not ideal.

  Miranda was going to be working here?

  I’d practically kicked my brother when he’d mentioned it to her at the diner, and had been relieved when they’d both let it drop.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be around Miranda. It was actually the complete opposite of that.

  Miranda George had an effect on me. It was something I’d never really experienced with anyone else, and that alone made me worry, but mostly I just hated myself around her. She made me self-conscious and I found myself worrying about ridiculous things in her presence, like why my feet suddenly seemed so huge, and whether my hair was a disaster. Generally speaking, I was a confident guy—as confident as any guy can be when he spends his life in his charming big brother’s shadow. But around Miranda? I wasn’t confident. I was something else.

  Like I said, I was an asshole.

  If anyone had called me on it, I wouldn’t have been able to explain it clearly. It was something about the way she made me feel—giddy and happy, and painfully nervous at the same time. Throw in her completely obvious crush on my brother, and my body kicked up some kind of chemical reaction that bubbled into asshole mode. And everything out of my mouth around her was pretty much awful.

  I wished there was some way I could just have a real shot with her.

  Miranda had a big heart and an openness to the world that had always charmed me completely, even when we’d been in first grade together and she’d kicked a fourth-grade friend of Chance’s who was teasing me. Maybe that was what had sealed my affection for her. Back then, when she’d been this tiny and fierce little blonde dynamo, we’d been friends.

  But once we’d gotten into middle school and I’d begun to realize how I felt about her, things had gotten awkward. And her admiration for my brother had become clear. But she’d still come over to my house sometimes after school, and her parents would invite my dad over for dinner, so we’d tag along.

  But then the THING had happened freshman year in high school and all hope had pretty much been lost.

  It had been Chance’s senior year, his send-off party for Berkeley. Chance had never planned to stay in Kings Grove. He’d gotten into a good school, and we were all gathered to celebrate the end of the school year, and to say goodbye. (Some of us more gleefully than others.)

  Miranda and I were freshmen, but since I lived in the house where the party was taking place, I was there. And so were some other freshmen I’d invited, including Miranda. And I regretted those invitations now like I’d never regretted anything before or since. I was the reason she’d been there. And at the time, she’d thought she was lucky to be invited to a senior party.

  But then Sophie Weiland had decided to be cruel. To both of us.

  I don’t know how Sophie knew about Miranda’s crush on my brother—though I guess most of the school just knew these things. It wasn’t like we were at a school of five hundred kids, after all. Kings Grove is tiny. So we kind of knew each other’s business. And Sophie wasn’t a nice girl at the best of times. But when she had potentially sensitive information? She was downright diabolical.

  And her actions led Miranda to believe she had a shot with my brother—and led me to think I might have a chance with Miranda.

  But neither of those things was true. We’d both been Sophie’s pawns when she’d whispered into our ears that night. And when Miranda figured out that Chance hadn’t actually invited her to meet him out in the woodshed to say a quiet goodbye and tell her something he’d always wanted to say; when she’d found me waiting there instead because Sophie said she’d invited me; when she’d bolted outside to find a crowd of seniors standing around and laughing hysterically—she assumed I’d been in on it. And I’d never really gotten the opportunity to tell her I’d been played every bit as much as she had. Because that would have meant admitting why I’d been in that shed.

  I’d never forget how she’d turned back to look at me standing inside the darkened space as everyone outside laughed at us. But she thought they were only laughing at her. Her eyes had filled with angry tears, and she’d said, “I hate you, Sam.”

  So yeah. That was bad.

  But our shared history actually gets worse.

  We kind of went our separate ways after freshman year—as much as that is possible at a school of only 150 kids. And we made it to senior prom, though I still had a fierce crush on Miranda and had begun to say horrible things to her instead of admitting that all I wanted was to sit quietly next to her and hold her hand.

  Somehow, we’d both been elected to prom court—Miranda because she was gorgeous and sweet to absolutely everyone, and me because…well, who knows why, really? And that isn’t the point. The point is that there was a moment when we both had to get up on the stage at the front of the dance floor under the glittering lights reflecting around the room, with the swell of music surrounding us, and the cheers of our classmates in our ears. And unfortunately, Miranda has a tiny bit of trouble in high-pressure situations—not to mention high heels—so she tripped over the hem of her long spaghetti-strap dress on the way up the stairs at the side of the stage, and went crashing to the floor in front of the crowd.

  And you’d probably figure that was the worst of it. But you’d be wrong.

  So wrong.

  Miranda was pretty accustomed to falling down, and so she popped right back up unhurt, though she gave me a dirty look and whispered, “Thanks a lot,” as I ascended the stairs behind her.

  I didn’t think I’d tripped her. Maybe I had. The whole memory feels like it’s penned in permanent marker in my mind, but maybe the edges are a little fuzzy now.

  The nerves must’ve been racing through her—I know I was nervous. Too nervous to give her a good once over like I should have, to make sure she was all put back together before we were officially presented to the school. And so I didn’t notice it right away.

  Not until the crowd in front of the stage began to come alive with a faint titter that morphed quickly into a roar of laughter. The kids in front of the stage pointed up at where Miranda’s dress was tugged down way too low in front.

  And I didn’t act fast enough. I should have figured it out right away. I should have stepped in front of her, protected her.

  But I was seventeen. And part of me thought they might be laughing at me, and seventeen-year old boys are not known for their self-confide
nce or their chivalry.

  It just took me too long to figure it out.

  Miranda had stared out at the crowd, her dress pulled down much lower than it should have been, and more of her assets on parade than she ever would have intended, and it took her a while to figure it out too. And then we both saw it at the same time. She yelped and crossed her arms in front of her chest, and I finally did step in front of her, facing her and putting my arms around her to try to shield her from eyes that didn’t deserve to see any more of her than she wanted to show.

  “Get off me, Sam!” She hissed, tears running down her face as she struggled in my arms.

  All I could think was that I wanted to cover her. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to hold her tight and keep her safe where no one could ever hurt her.

  And all she wanted was to get off that stage as quickly as possible. And I was holding her there.

  Chance had been standing off to one side, home on spring break and humiliatingly acting as a chaperone. And when he saw what was going on, it took him all of a second to remove his tux jacket, stride to Miranda, and tuck it around her, pushing me off of her in the process.

  “Smooth move, bro,” he’d whispered to me as he turned her to the stairs, his arm protectively over her shoulders as he guided her out of the spotlight.

  He was her white knight. As usual.

  And I was the guy she hated.

  Chapter 8

  Miranda

  I arrived for my early shift at the restaurant the next day with something like excitement brewing in my heart. I’d been doing the same thing—studying, living at home, working at the diner—for so long I’d forgotten there might be other options, and that those other options could be really good for me. Even without Chance’s presence at Palmer Construction, the idea of a new challenge was welcome. The stormy gray-blue eyes and chiseled jaw in the next office over wouldn’t hurt either. And I definitely didn’t mean Sam’s.

  “Someone’s awfully cheerful today.” Adele frowned at me as I tied on my apron behind the counter. Only someone as terminally un-cheerful as Adele would look annoyed when one of her employees showed up happy for a five-thirty AM shift.

  “I guess I am,” I said. The air outside had been warm this morning, as it always was in summer. The dry warmth of the mountains and the cool moisture misting up off the meadow in the center of the village always made the mornings seem ethereal, like fairies might be flitting around, playing on the light breeze. No fairies had popped out as I’d driven by the big grassy expanse this morning, but two deer had lifted their heads up out of the fog to watch me roll by.

  “Glad to see it, Miranda.” Adele’s husband, Frank, was the cheery one between them. His head appeared through the window behind the counter and he grinned at me.

  The regulars began to appear in ones and twos, rangers who went out early for work inside the Park and professional folks who drove down to the valley every day for office jobs. The morning swirled by, filled with pancakes and eggs, coffee and tea. The sun rose beyond the building housing the diner and the bright rays poured into the parking lot outside, coloring the world in hues of yellow and orange. In the time before Maddie arrived at nine, I’d spilled on only one customer and managed not to trip at all. So far, it was an amazing morning.

  Maddie was not a morning person. She needed at least two cups of coffee before she could hold an actual conversation. But I was bursting with the need to tell her about the new job. I watched while she tied her burgundy apron around her waist and gathered her hair into a wild knot at the back of her head, trying to see if she looked more awake than usual.

  “You’re making me nervous,” she said as she washed her hands, looking at me sideways.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Just excited today.”

  “Need coffee,” she replied.

  I pulled a mug from the counter and poured her a cup, setting it behind her on the counter. She turned around and doctored it with cream and sugar, and then lifted the cup to her lips.

  “Most places expect employees to show up awake,” Adele quipped from the podium by the door.

  “I’m awake,” Maddie said. “Just finishing up the caffeination process.”

  They both knew she could probably do without the waitressing gig, so I doubted Adele would push too hard. They’d never really gotten along, but there was some kind of grudging respect between them. And Frank would never let Adele actually fire Maddie.

  Maddie pulled a bag of sugar packets from below the counter and set to work filling the little silver tins along the countertop. “Okay, so why are you dancing around and grinning like that?”

  “I start my new job at noon.”

  Maddie’s hand stopped, still buried in the big bag of sugar packs. Her eyes widened. “You’re leaving the diner?”

  I shook my head. “Doing both. Starting at Palmer Construction part time today.”

  She grinned. “You did it. That’s wonderful, Miranda!” Her voice was low enough that Adele couldn’t hear, for which I was glad. She wouldn’t like it, and I didn’t intend to ask her opinion. “And that dress looks amazing on you.”

  I was wearing the shirtdress I’d modeled at Maddie and Connor’s place. “Thanks.” A warm blush crawled up my cheeks.

  “I can’t wait to hear all about it,” she said, nodding at a customer who’d just taken a seat at the end of the counter.

  The breakfast shift kept us busy until about eleven, when the usual pre-lunch lull hit, and we worked to tidy things up for the next wave. Another server, Dean Apcott, had been hired when he’d come back home this spring, and he arrived just as we were finishing up.

  Dean was a local kid who was supposed to be away at college, but who had taken a year off. He’d been the most recent hope for something big to come out of Kings Grove High—a soccer star and science and math prodigy. But something had gone wrong in his first year at school, because he’d been back before the year was up. His parents were tight-lipped about it, and Dean would only say that he’d needed a break.

  “What up, ladies?” Dean grinned at us as he tucked a pencil behind his ear, his overgrown hair curling in brown locks around it.

  “Not much,” I told him. “How’s it going?”

  “Can’t complain,” he said. He leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms as he gazed out over the restaurant and out the window. “You guys hear about that fire?”

  He had our attention now. “Fire?” Maddie asked.

  “Yeah. Probably not a big deal, just a lightening strike on a back ridge a couple days ago. Dad says it’ll stay back there and burn itself out.” Dean nodded at a table of four that had just been seated for lunch. “Don’t freak out,” he said, looking over his shoulder as he moved around to take their order.

  Maddie and I exchanged a worried glance, but I knew Dean was probably right. Wildfire was a part of being in the mountains. The huge Sequoias around us, the trees that gave Kings Grove it’s name, needed fire to survive. It had been part of their lives for millennia. But it wasn’t so good for humans. And houses. I sent up a silent prayer that the fire would stay in the backcountry. As I made my way out to the truck I took a few extra sniffs of the clear mountain air I loved. There was no trace of smoke, only the verdant scent of lush meadow grass and the spicy combination of pine and redwood.

  I pulled up outside Palmer Construction and put on a fresh coat of lip gloss.

  Everything was about to change.

  Flipping down the mirror in the truck, I took a couple minutes to give myself a little pep talk and to try to squash the nerves that sweep around inside my body whenever the thought of seeing Chance Palmer comes up.

  “You can do this.” Talking to myself might not be the most sane thing, but crashing through the door and falling on my face out of sheer nervousness would be so much worse. “You got this.” I sat in the car a second longer and nodded, letting the nerves dissipate a bit before getting the creepy feeling someone was watching me. I snapped the mirror shut and w
hipped my head around, looking for the source of my sixth sense. I didn’t have to look far. Sam Palmer stood directly next to my window, grinning at me.

  “You talking to yourself now, Miranda?” he asked as I opened the door and got out.

  “No,” I barked, smoothing my dress as I shut the door behind me.

  Sam laughed, a low rolling sound that managed to prick every cell in my body with annoyance. “I find it’s easiest to get work done if we go inside.”

  I let Sam hold the door open for me, even though I had hoped he might be somehow absent during my first day at his office. Sam and his broody presence were no part of the fantasies I had about how my job at Palmer might work out.

  As soon as we were inside, I looked around for Chance, my stomach tight with anticipation. But the office off the lobby was quiet, the big chair empty.

  “Chance is on a job down in the valley today,” Sam said. “So you get me.” He said it like he knew I’d be disappointed, his head cocked to one side and a smirk on his face.

  “Oh.” I couldn’t help the flat note of disappointment that fell from my lips.

  “Don’t sound so excited,” Sam said, his tone matching my own. “Your favorite Palmer brother will be back tomorrow.”

  I tried for a smile, but there was really no point. Sam just rubbed me the wrong way and we both knew it. “Where shall I put my things?” Best to stick to business.

  “This is your desk, so wherever you can find space. I cleared out a couple drawers at the bottom here.” Sam came around and pulled the chair out for me, opening two big drawers at the bottom of the desk. “This one up here,” he pointed to a long top drawer. “It’s got all your emergency office supplies.”

  I nodded, expecting to see pens, Post-Its, and tape stuffing the space when he pulled it open. Instead, the flat drawer rolled open to reveal chapstick, gum, a deck of cards, and three boxes of Raisinets—my favorite. “These are office supplies?”

  A little smile pulled at the corner of Sam’s face, the golden stubble mixed into his beard glinting in the light. He didn’t look up to meet my eye, but kept his gaze focused on the surprising drawer. “I just wanted you to feel at home,” he said. He turned and pointed to a cabinet hugging the wall next to the front door. “If you need pens and stuff, they’re in the cabinet over there.”